


Escape from Solitude

by mysid



Category: Doctor Who, The Charioteer - Mary Renault, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysid/pseuds/mysid
Summary: In the Doctor Who episode “The Doctor Dances,” Jack, masquerading as an RAF captain, implies that he’s visited England during the blitz several times. Why couldn’t he have met Alec Deacon (from The Charioteer) on one of those visits? Jack’s good-looking; Alec’s good-looking; they both like good-looking men.A surgeon and a time traveler walk into a bar...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Jack is the creation of Russell T. Davies, and Alec is the creation of Mary Renault. I've just borrowed them temporarily.

Alec hesitated before walking into the White Pony. The tacky chrome and plastic leather of this particular pub really were an eyesore, making it a less than ideal place to unwind after a shift at the hospital, but it was a place where one was likely to run into someone one knew, and Alec didn't much care to drink alone. Sandy was still on shift—and Alec needed to unwind from him as much as he needed to unwind from work—and he preferred not to drop by Ralph's now that Laurie was living there.

 _Ralph wouldn't be caught dead in this place_ , Alec thought as he stepped up to the bar and caught glimpses of his own distorted reflection on far too many surfaces. Even as he thought it, he knew that Ralph had no need to come here; this is where one came when one was lonely, and Ralph wasn't lonely anymore.

It was an odd time of day, so the crowd was light. Alec had immediately spotted George at the other end of the bar, but he was deeply engrossed in conversation with a man already. They looked almost ready to leave together. An older man quietly hunched over an empty glass, definitely not his first, created a no-man's-land of despair in the centre of the bar. From one of the tables, Alec heard a sudden burst of laughter. Turning his head just slightly, he was able to see three men, one of whom was in an RAF uniform but spoke with an American accent. The American glanced toward the bar just then, smiling, and saw Alec watching him. The American returned to telling his story—an amusing story if the laughter of the other two was an accurate indication—while still watching Alec. Alec looked away. 

The American was easily the best looking man in the White Pony at this moment, and probably would be at any given moment. However, Alec didn't much care for Americans. The ones he'd met had been just too much. Too loud, too self-confident, too common. And this one didn't seem any different from that mould. And the accent. Something about the flatness of the vowels grated on the ear. Alec had never yet met an American who pronounced his name correctly—rather disturbing when heard at the wrong moment.

Alec finished his drink and was deciding whether to get a second or to go home when the American took the place beside him and gestured to the bartender. "Two of whatever my friend here is having," the American said.

 _Too self-confident by half_ , Alec thought, but he decided to accept the drink with good grace. The man was _very_ good-looking after all.

"The name's Jack," the American said as he extended a hand.

"Alec."

"Why so glum, chum?" Jack asked brightly. Alec nearly winced at the inane rhyme and decided to finish his drink as quickly as possible and escape; he was definitely _not_ interested. "Who better to tell your troubles to than a stranger," Jack continued. 

"No troubles," Alec said and applied himself to his drink.

Jack gave a little salute with his own glass. "Sure, chum, and that's why you look as if your best friend just died."

Alec half-laughed in spite of himself and stared at Jack in amazement. The pure audacity to say something like _that_ in the middle of a war. Something in the look Alec was giving him must have given Jack pause, for Alec saw the bright smile finally falter and a knitted brow appear. 

"He didn't just—did he?"

Alec realized that Jack meant well. He was a boorish idiot, but he meant well. He decided to put the American's mind at ease.

“No, as a matter of fact, he’s happier than he’s ever been."

“Then why the long face?”

“Because he isn’t happy with me.” 

"Ahhh." Jack nodded understandingly and turned on his barstool to face the bar rather than Alec. "That's hell, isn't it?"

Alec was already regretting his reckless confession. It wasn't the way it sounded; he _wasn't_ jealous. He and Ralph had already had their go, and it hadn't worked out. He was glad that Ralph was with Laurie now; he was glad Ralph was happy. He'd played bloody matchmaker, hadn't he?

"Some bird catch his eye?" Jack asked. Jack kept his gaze firmly forward, and Alec recognized it as an attempt at tact; Jack seemed to think that Alec could discuss this more easily if not being scrutinised. The effort wasn't necessary, but the thought behind it was appreciated.

"No, not quite," Alec said, and, at Jack's inquiring glance, nodded.

"Ouch," Jack said. "Makes rejection a little more personal, doesn't it?"

"It wasn't like that," Alec found himself explaining. "We were already over. I'm not jealous of him." He found it important to make that point clear, even if this were merely a stranger he was speaking with.

"But maybe you're jealous of _them_?" Jack asked with a sidelong glance. "Of what they have?"

Although Alec had never thought of it in those terms, he realized that this stranger, this outsider to their lives, may have guessed right. He found unsettling their obvious happiness with each other, their easy trust in one another and in what they had together, and he found it unsettling because he and Sandy didn't have it. 

And if the truth be told, he and Ralph had never had it either. He'd never felt relaxed with Ralph; he'd always been aware that Ralph wanted more from him than he could give. Even as they'd settled into a life together, he'd known that it wouldn't last. The happier Ralph had seemed to become, the more Alec had pulled away for fear of hurting Ralph when the end did come.

"I couldn't be who he wanted me to be," Alec heard himself saying. "I didn't want to be that person—I still don't—so why do I resent that he did find that person?"

"Maybe because you told yourself that person didn't exist. You told yourself that you and your friend didn't work out because no one could be who he needed. It made the break-up solely his fault. That it's working out with this new man proves you wrong." Jack flashed him a smile. "Sorry."

Alec smiled back half-heartedly. He'd never said that the break-up was Ralph's fault; he'd always said that he and Ralph hadn't worked out because they weren't right for each other. But perhaps Jack was right as well; perhaps he had imagined that no one was right for Ralph.

"I went through something similar," Jack said as he gestured to the barman for a refill, "only it was a job, not a romance. I couldn't live up to what they expected of me, and I took a lot of comfort in telling myself that no one could."

"And now we're counting on you to help save us from the Jerries," Alec said as he took a good look at Jack's uniform—and how he looked in it. "Comforting."

Jack laughed. "Nope, no one has to count on me for anything. Not anymore. I'm in supplies and requisitions now. I find people what they want or need. And what you need is to find someone new," Jack said with a bright smile and a "Here I am!" gesture of open arms.

"I already have," Alec said, suppressing a smile. "His name's Sandy."

"Ah. So, no hope for me?" Jack asked with a lift of an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," Alec admitted. He couldn't suppress his smile any longer.

 

_\--written April 2010_


End file.
